Handcuffed to the Loo
by Altra
Summary: Ron Weasley's life has been looking up. He had just been promoted to the Head of the Department of Regulated Magical Destruction, his engagement to Hermione Granger had just been anounced, and his hair was still red. Then, it fell apart with one, tiny,


Handcuffed to the Loo  
  
By Altra  
  
A/N: If it's in between * and * then it is a thought. If it's between ~ and ~ then it is a flashback.  
  
**  
  
Ron nervously glanced around the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed just days ago that that fateful owl had delivered the note which changed his life forever. At thirty four, Ron's life was just starting to shape up. He'd just be promoted to Head of the Department of Regulated Magical Destruction, his engagement to Hermione Granger had just been announced, and his hair was still red.  
  
With twitching fingers, Ron drew the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket, reading it through again.  
  
'Dear Ronald Weasley,  
  
I suppose you have no clue as to who I am, though I know a great deal about you. My mother, Pansy Parkinson, has told me about you ever since I could toddle. She's always told me what a complete and total jackass you are (and that is a quote, by the way). I suppose to some degree she is entitled to her feelings. My name is Helios Vincent Parkinson, age 15. I suppose, if you cared to do the math, you'd realize that I was born when my mother and yourself were only 19. Hmm. Haven't you figured it out yet? I, unfortunately, am your son. No worries, I'm not out to re-introduce you to my mother, that would be plain cruel. I would simply like to ask a favor of you. Please meet me in the Leaky Cauldron on July 18 at two in the afternoon. If you do not show, well, so much for blood being thicker than water.  
  
-Helios'  
  
Ron crumpled the paper again, shoving it into his pocket. He glared at the occupants of the pub, at the same time looking for a clock. He found one, above Tom, the bartender's, head. *Great, I'm a half an hour early*, Ron thought darkly. He'd told Hermione he'd an urgent errand to run, and would be home around three. She had naturally been concerned, as Ron didn't leave the house earlier than six on the weekends.  
  
He wasn't always that bad. When at Hogwarts, he'd rise at nine a.m., and be ready to go. But then You Know Who acknowledged his own rising, and Harry had gone to fight him. His sister, his only sister, had set herself up as the bait for Voldemort's most loyal follower: Draco Malfoy. Ron's life went into a spiral after that, and not even Hermione, who he'd loved since his fourth year, could bring him out of it. Only one person did, and that was a mistake to begin with.  
  
"Ah Mr. Weasley! What can I get for you today?" Tom asked, walking over to Ron. Ron glanced up from the candle on his table, giving Tom a lopsided grin.  
  
"Something strong, that's for sure," he replied.  
  
"Trouble with women?" he asked, patting Ron on the back and going off to fetch a drink for him.  
  
"You could say that," Ron muttered.  
  
It had been sixth year when Pansy Parkinson had attempted to handcuff him to Moaning Myrtle's toilet, and handcuffed herself as well. She had sent him a note saying that she had a gift for him, pretending to be Hermione. He had gone, opened the stall, and she jumped him, managing to slap one part of the handcuff onto his hand, and loop it around the bottom part of the toilet. Ron has somehow gotten the other ring around her hand, and they were both stuck, practically face down on the ground. Apparently, she hadn't any keys for the bugger and had left her wand in Potions. Ron himself hadn't brought his wand, expecting a rather nice gift from Hermione.  
  
*Yeah, and the tart turned out to be pretty nice, when you got past the obvious hatred of anything and everything Gryffindor.*  
  
"Here you go. I hope your problems sort themselves out," Tom said, placing a mug down in front of Ron. Ron nodded dully. He carelessly picked the mug up, holding it between his hands, before shrugging, and taking a deep gulp.  
  
~"Hey Ron, you got a letter," Harry said. Ron looked up from his potatoes, grabbing the letter from Harry's hand. Cranberries were dripping off the side, and Ron cocked an eyebrow at Harry, who blushed. "Well, it did land on my plate!"  
  
Ron laughed, wiping the spare potatoes on his napkin. On the front of the letter was 'Ron' and nothing else. Well, that means it's either from Hermione or Harry, he thought. His family members always doodled over the cover, so even the name was fanciful. With a smile, Ron torn the letter open. His eyes quickly skimmed the contents, and he read through it again, unable to believe his eyes.  
  
'Dear Ron,  
  
Ron, I've got a gift for you. A very, well, private gift. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to Harry- I'm afraid he'd be embarrassed. Please meet me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the last stall, at the beginning of dinner.  
  
Love,  
  
Hermione'  
  
Ron felt like laughing with joy. A secret present! Like any sixteen year old boy, he had his own hopes about what his 'present' could be, since it seemed like a very secret present.  
  
"Who's it from?" Harry asked while shoving a roll into his mouth. Ron quickly crumpled the parchment up and slipped it into his pocket.  
  
"It's from Ginny. You know, wants to borrow my crystal ball," Ron said, spooning potatoes into his mouth.  
  
"But wouldn't she have left you a note, she would have-"  
  
"Sorry Harry, but I've got to go," Ron said with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. Grabbing his cloak, Ron made for the girls bathroom, ignoring Harry's curious looks.  
  
He'd never moved so fast in his life. He was at the door to the bathroom within what seemed like seconds. Stopping for a second to compose himself, Ron slowly opened the door, and shut it firmly behind himself.  
  
"Hermione?" he whispered, walking down to the last stall. He pushed to door open with a sweaty palm, bracing himself for what he was sure would be the greatest shock of his life-  
  
A blur streaked out, slamming him into the side of the stall. Ron yelped in pain as his knee collided with the toilet paper holder. Something metal scraped at his wrist, pinching the skin together. Howling in pain, he launched himself backwards, propelling the person into the other wall. He heard an 'oof,' before he was dragged to the ground by his wrist. His hand was pulled around the base of the toilet. Wildly, he managed to grab the other ring before it snapped onto his other wrist, somehow slapping it onto his attackers hand.  
  
"No!" the very feminine voice shrieked. Ron tried to look up, but it was impossible. He was pinned, almost face to floor, unable to move. It was disgusting, and he tried his best not to think about what had been on the floor in previous years.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" he asked in a sickened voice. He felt a bit of slack come from his side of the handcuffs, and glanced up. Pansy Parkinson was sitting there, with one leg in front of the toilet and the other bent like an upside down V next to her. Her left shoulder was sharply angled down, and her hand disappeared behind the base of the privy. Ron struggled to sit up, but his limbs couldn't bend enough to get him completely up like her. He ended up with one leg bent under him at an uncomfortable angle, and the other still sprawled out behind himself. At least I'm not face to face with the floor, he though.  
  
"All right, Parkinson, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he hollered, glaring up at her. She shot him a sneer, before rotating her shoulder a little bit.  
  
"Well, I was intending to handcuff you to the toilet," she said, digging around in her pockets with her right hand. "Damnit," she muttered.  
  
"Are you going to magic this off or not?" he demanded. I can't believe I just left my wand in the dorm!  
  
"Shut up, Weasley! Everything is going just as I planned it!" she spat, turning a faint pink. Ron felt his jaw drop.  
  
"You mean you don't have your wand?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"Well you don't either!" she shot back.  
  
"I thought I was meeting Hermione!"  
  
"Don't lie, Weasley, you know you thought you were going to get some snogging done," she said with a laugh. Ron felt his ears go red.  
  
"What is so funny?" he growled.  
  
"That you actually thought Granger would lower herself to admit to being physically attracted to you!" she burst out, laughing immensely.  
  
"Shut up!" he yelled, closing his eyes tightly. This is a dream. I'm not really chained to a toilet and a Slytherin! Not that there is much difference, they're practically interchangeable, he thought.~  
  
"Mr. Weasley? Ronald? Ron? You okay there?" Ron shook his head, snapping out of his flashback.  
  
"Huh?" he wondered, looking up at Tom, who was anxiously watching him.  
  
"I asked you if you wanted another drink, apparently not," he added, before sitting in the chair across from Ron. "Why don't you tell me about these problems of yours?" he asked, pulling his wand out of his apron and tapping Ron's mug, which disappeared. Ron quietly thought the matter over to himself. *I guess I could tell Tom. I mean, my story must be pretty dull compared to some of the ones he's heard.*  
  
"Well, as you know, I'm engaged to Hermione Granger, right?" he continued at Tom's nod. "And as everyone knows, we've been a couple since fifth year." Another nod. "Well, what everyone doesn't know, is that I wasn't completely faithful to Hermione since sixth year until I turned twenty." Tom's eyes widened.  
  
"You sure about that? I could've sworn you two were a match made in heaven," he said, tapping his wand on the table causing a mug of frothy liquid to appear, which he handed to Ron.  
  
"Thanks. Yes, I'm very sure about it. It was in sixth year that You Know Who began to really rise, remember? Well, my sister, my own sister, placed herself as the bait for Draco Malfoy, though I'm sure you've heard about that. He plays in a muggle punk band now, but back then he was a brutal person. She changed him, for better I'm sure, but he changed her too. She's not the same shy, innocent girl she used to be.  
  
"Anyway, that same year, Harry was throwing himself into every plan Dumbledore had to catch the Dark Lord. Sometimes we wouldn't see him for weeks. It scared the hell out of me, but Hermione always had this faith in Dumbledore that even I couldn't begin to understand. I was angry at him for allowing my sister to continue on her path, even though she kept saying she was fine. I remember the day she told me she had fallen in love with Malfoy. Terribly torn up, she was. Sobbing, couldn't believe it herself, even though Malfoy was under the impression that she was in love with him the whole time. 'Course, Malfoy found out her original feelings were an act, but had already changed enough that he didn't return to You Know Who, just refused to talk to my sister. Still hasn't, and she's still heart broken. That's deep love there, I tell you.  
  
"Hermione- she never seemed to understand how much it hurt me to see my sister throwing herself around as bait, and to see Harry playing cat and mouse with the Death Eaters. I don't think Harry ever realized how much danger he was in until he killed You Know Who. Right after he defeated him, he just sort of woke up, finally realized that he was free from the fear that someone would kill him. Best day of my life, watching Harry run in circles screaming that he was finally free. Really opened him up, it did. He joined the Chudley Cannons without a second thought, married a lovely French girl a couple years back. Gabrielle Delacour I believe her name was. Haven't spoken with the bloke for a while, he's always practicing and I'm always working.  
  
"Back to sixth year. I was in a turmoil I never thought I'd get out of. One day, I received a letter I though was from Hermione, asking me to meet her in the girls toilet alone. Being a hormonal sixteen year old boy, I was a bit presumptuous as to what I would be getting. Well, I showed up, but it wasn't Hermione who had sent me the note, but rather Pansy Parkinson. I bet you've heard about her, lost her powers in the last stand against the Dark Lord."  
  
"Wait a minute. You mean the Pansy Parkinson? You knew her? My lords, she was a piece of work! Had her in here the other day with her son. Wonderful kid, by the way. Anyway, she apparently can still do uncontrolled magic without a wand, but when she came in here, every wand in the place started spitting out bubbles, glowing, spinning in circles and whizzing, floating, you name it," Tom said. At Ron's look he laughed nervously. "Sorry about that, didn't mean to interrupt. It's not everyday I get celebrities in my pub."  
  
"Yes you do, and you know it! Harry used to come in quite a bit, and so does Hermione and myself for that matter. We're famous in our own right, she being the youngest witch awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class for a heroic deed. Hell, even Harry received one, but a few months after she did! As for me, I think discovering the Death Eaters meeting spot and offing a few of them was pretty important.  
  
"Back to the story. Pansy tried to handcuff me to the toilet and handcuffed herself too. It was a dare from the other Slytherins. Anyway, we got around to talking and she turned out to be not half bad. When the House Elves found us a day later, we agreed to stay friends, but she didn't want to risk her reputation as a Slytherin and I didn't want to risk mine as a Gryffindor, so we became secret friends. We'd meet everyday after dinner on the Quidditch pitch. After a few months of secret meetings, I found myself falling in love with her, and she admitted to the same.  
  
"We entertained a sort of childhood romance, holding hands and watching the sunset. A few clumsy kisses, but nothing more than that. I was still with Hermione, and I felt horrible about cheating on her, but I couldn't chose between the two of them. Hermione was all smiles for everyone, but when Harry finally defeated the Dark Lord, I knew that she was walking on eggshells. Afraid that You Know Who wasn't really dead, even though Dumbledore himself said it was so. Hell, she was there when he was killed. I knew if I broke up with her then, in our seventh year, she would be devastated. I think she knew something was off between us. I was refusing to kiss her, and avoiding her. All I could think about was Pansy, and how much she meant to me and how horrible it was for me to hurt Hermione the way I was.  
  
"After we graduated, Hermione left to study abroad for two years. And for those two years, I felt at complete ease with my feelings for Pansy. We became- physically involved on her eighteenth birthday. I'd never felt closer to anyone in my life, but I still couldn't bring myself to end it with Hermione, I was too afraid of what would happen if she found out I'd been with Pansy for three years behind her back. It was close to my twentieth birthday when things between Pansy and myself ended. I'd felt my feelings for her change, I didn't feel as clumsy around her, I felt at ease. I figured out that I wasn't in love with her like I thought I was. I still love her, can't stop thinking about her, but I don't feel that clumsy blushing under the moonlight feeling I used to get around her. I tried to break it to her gently, but she wouldn't have it. She exploded at me, calling me a lying bastard.  
  
"She told me flat out that I had ruined her life. That she could never even look at me again without thinking about what a jerk I was, abandoning her like I was. I didn't understand what she meant at the time, but I do now. She spent the night screaming at me, and crying. I couldn't stand it when she cried, it was like seeing my sister confessing about Malfoy all over again. I remember trying to hug her, and she pulled away from me, clutching her stomach. God, it feels like yesterday, seeing her eyes full of tears and her lips pulled into a mirthless smirk. She whispered to me that she hoped I'd be happy with Granger. I was taken aback. I thought she'd assumed that Hermione and I had broken up, like the rest of the female population did.  
  
"She accused me of just wanting a silly whore, with whom I could fulfill my 'needs' with and just be smiles with Hermione. She walked out that night, and try as I might to stop her, I couldn't make myself apologize. I tried to keep myself from it, because I knew what she was saying was right. I didn't want to give up Hermione because she was stability, but I didn't want to give up her either, because I thought I was in love with her.  
  
"So she left me, and she never looked back. A few years back, when I was twenty-eight, I realized that my changing feelings for her hadn't been a loss of love, but rather a different stage in it. A stage where I was subconsciously willing to spend the rest of my life with her. But Hermione. she was always in the back of my mind, and I couldn't bring myself to end things with her and meet up with Pansy. I guess I've gotten over Pansy, but I received a letter the other day, which has opened old wounds." With a sigh, Ron pulled the clump of parchment out of his pocket and dropped it on the table.  
  
"Helios, her son, my son sent it to me. I never realized what she meant about abandoning her, I assume she thought I knew about the pregnancy, but I didn't. If I had, I wouldn't have left her. I would've stayed with her and confessed to Hermione. I hate myself for letting her raise the brat by herself. But she didn't even tell me about it! The bloody kid himself had to tell me! Anyway, that's why I'm here. Helios asked me to meet him here at two, and I'm waiting for him," Ron said, downing the remaining contents of the mug. Tom sat still for a second, holding his chin. With a sign, he shifted his weight, placing his hand flat on the table.  
  
"Well son, that's quite a predicament. I've just got to ask you one question; Do you still love her? Do you love Hermione?" Ron focused on the mug, as if the moist wood would give him an answer. Tom stood, patting Ron on the shoulder. "When you can answer that, my boy, then you'll know for sure if you're ready to get married." Ron let the breath he was holding out.  
  
"Thanks Tom. That's the best advice anyone's given me in years," he murmured. Tom nodded, before walking off to attend to his other customers. Ron heard someone pull Tom's chair out and sit down. He glanced up, then back at his mug. With a shock, Ron looked back up again.  
  
The boy sitting there had familiar mousy brown hair, which was spiked up, with hints of red around the roots. His dark blue eyes were fairly extraordinary in their ethereal appearance. He had a spray of freckles across his nose, and a rather tanned complexion. By the height he achieved while sitting, Ron assumed he must be a few inches shorter than himself.  
  
"I must say, you answered every question without my even asking," he said with a slight smile. Ron gaped at the boy like a fish. "My name's Helios. Helios Parkinson," he said, holding out his hand. With a huge grin, Ron bypassed the hand and pulled the boy into a bear hug.  
  
"Well there, my boy, don't be acting like a stranger," he said with a laugh. He released his son, who was flushed with pleasure, his cold demeanor dropped. "I take it you wanted to know why I wasn't with your mother for your birth?" Helios nodded.  
  
"You have to admit, it was rather hard to grow up thinking your father didn't want you because you're the son of a Slytherin," he said, bobbing his head. Ron waved Tom over, who looked between Ron and Helios, as if expecting an argument.  
  
"Tom, bring the boy a butterbeer!" he said with a laugh. Tom smiled and went off behind the bar. "So tell me, how's Hogwarts doing, Helios?"  
  
"Call me Hel, it's what Mum does," he said with a smirk. "Reckons I'm a little devil in my own right. Hogwarts has been pretty good, Gabrielle Potter's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Mum's convinced that the job's still cursed. Haven't held a decent teacher for more than a year. I'm Chaser on our team-"  
  
"What house are you in?" Ron asked, ashamed that he didn't even know what house his only child was in.  
  
"Slytherin," Hel replied with a broad smile. "Mum said it was the proudest moment of her life when I got put in Slytherin."  
  
"How's the cup standing?"  
  
"Gryffidor's won it all four years I've been there," he said with a sneer.  
  
"Yes, well, we Gryff's were always rather hard to beat, I suppose," Ron said, as Tom dropped Hel's butterbeer off.  
  
"Thick skulls is more like it," Hel muttered. Ron laughed, watching his son taking a gulp of his butterbeer.  
  
"So when is your birthday, I don't want to be caught off guard," Ron said, burning his first memories of his son into his mind.  
  
"January 16, and I'll be expecting a Wind Streak 9000 and a nice card," he said. Ron smiled at his son.  
  
"Well, when does your mother want you home? We can go grab a bite to eat in muggle London if you have time," Ron said, glancing again at the clock above the bar.  
  
"Uh, yeah, well, she doesn't really know I'm here," Hel muttered. Ron glanced back towards his son.  
  
"Doesn't know, huh? Well then, we'll just have to stop by and invite her along," Ron said, with more confidence than he felt. Hel's head shot up.  
  
"No way! She'd kill me!"  
  
"Don't worry about it! As a Slytherin, you should have a pretty damn good excuse for being down here in the first place, and I'll just tell her that I ran into you and you started cursing obscenities at me about deserting her," Ron said, waving for his son to follow him. "Besides, won't it be smashing to see that vein in her forehead pop out?" Hel smirked and quickly followed his father to the door, through which they made their was to the Underground.  
  
***  
  
An hour and a half later, Ron felt like slapping himself. He was standing in the living room of Pansy Parkinson's flat, his son, his son, off trying to find her. Ron glanced around nodding. *This room certainly does scream Pansy.* The walls were covered in a light green wallpaper, with a dark wooden bookshelves crammed with old spell books. There was a homey cream couch and a coffee table with a muggle television box on it was against the opposite wall. Ron figured it wouldn't kill him to sit down, so he treated himself to the center of the couch.  
  
It made him feel incredibly tall, as the couch was maybe a foot and a half off the ground. His knees were pretty high up, and his feet firmly on the ground. Ron choked on the thought of what Hel and his mother must look like sitting side by side on this couch.  
  
"You did what?!" Ron's head shot up when the shriek went through the flat. Thudding footsteps were his only warning before Pansy Parkinson burst into the living room, soap suds in her hair and a large towel around her body.  
  
"Oh no you don't! You get off my couch and get out of my flat!" she hollered, brandishing a shampoo bottle at him. Ron quickly stood up, glaring at her. *I'd forgotten how perfect she looked fresh out of the shower,* he thought in a tiny corner of his mind.  
  
"Now you listen to me! Did you think I'd never find out that we had a son together?" he spat, waving his arms around.  
  
"You knew damn well!" she screeched.  
  
"I did not!" he yelled back. With a growl she threw the shampoo bottle at him with all the force she could muster. Her accidental magic kicked in and the bottle flew even faster at his forehead. Before Ron knew what was happening, he was knocked unconscious, the last thing he remembered being 'Clairol.'  
  
"Mum wait!" Hel yelled as he burst into the room. He saw his mother standing there, holding her towel together, and his father lying on the floor, with a Herbal Essence bottle rolling around near his head.  
  
"Oh the thanks I get for telling the truth," he muttered, pulling his wand out of his pocket. Before he could take a step closer to his father, his mother rounded on him.  
  
"What on earth do you think you're doing? That jack ass of a man left me alone with you and didn't even care! What made you randomly decided to go off and find him?" she questioned, glaring darkly at the unconscious Ron.  
  
"I wanted to find out why he did it! I showed up a bit earlier than my note said, and he was explaining his problem to the bartender when I came in. He didn't do it on purpose, Mum! He had no idea! He thought he wasn't in love with you, but he really was, and it's hard to explain but he didn't do it on purpose!" Pansy looked between her son and Ron. With a growl, she pushed past her son.  
  
"I am going to finish my shower. Wake that up," she said, pointing at Ron, "and take care of that bruise he's going to have." With that, she turned and stalked down the hall to her room and slammed the door. Hel winced, hearing the water start to run again. With a grimace, he set about to waking up his unconscious father.  
  
***  
  
Ron felt like he'd been hit in the head with a bludger. With a groan, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, clutching his right eye. He felt a hand steadying him on his shoulder. Glancing to his left, he saw his son looking at him with fearful eyes.  
  
"Don't worry, kid. That's not the first time she's hit me with something," Ron said with a painful smile. *Yeah, she hit you with a hot iron once,* he thought.  
  
"Yes well, just be happy she didn't get you over the head with her baseball bat. I saw her looking for it when I told her," Hel said. He helped his father to the couch, before running off to grab an ice pack. He heard the water shut off, and really began rushing. He ran out to his father, tossing the ice pack at him. Ron, who hadn't been paying attention, was caught in the eye with the ice pack.  
  
"Bloody hell, woman! Haven't you tortured me enough," he growled, turning to glare at Pansy, but seeing Hel shaking with laughter. "Har har. Very funny," he muttered, grabbing the ice pack and holding it up to his eye. Pansy stormed into the room a few minutes later, wearing a baggy pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blue sweat shirt.  
  
"All right, Weasley. Why the hell are you here?"  
  
"Tsk tsk, Pansy. Is that how you greet all your guests, or am I just special?" he asked.  
  
"Just you. And speak quickly, I'm late for a meeting," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"You mean you're late for a date with that daft bugger Jeremy," Hel muttered. Pansy turned to glare at him.  
  
"And what do you mean by that?"  
  
"I know perfectly well that the git is just after you for- well, I'd rather not discuss it with my mother," Hel said, blushing with embarrassment. Pansy cocked her head to the side.  
  
"Really, for a woman my age that can be considered a compliment," she said with a smirk.  
  
"Mother!" Hel protested. Ron smiled despite himself. *This is quite a family they've formed.*  
  
"Well, if you're implying what I think you're implying, than I am quite flattered, but Jeremy isn't getting any thing of the sort from me," she said, turning to Ron again. "So, out with it, why are you here?"  
  
"I was going to take Hel out for a bite to eat, and came by to invite you along as well. Didn't think you'd have a date. I assumed you'd married." Pansy raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"I suppose I should be flattered by that too, but, quite frankly I'm not in much demand," she said with a smirk.  
  
"That's because you start wailing about your poor, dead husband whenever anyone tries to ask you out," Hel muttered. Ron burst out laughing, while Pansy turned bright red.  
  
"Well- I- you- oh! What else am I supposed to do? Bat my eyes and say 'pick me up and eight lover' then let them jump in my pants? Oh honestly, am I forever doomed to be perpetually tied to the two most childish males ever?" she said with a sigh, making her way to the door. She turned at the last minute and stalked over to Ron, pointing menacingly at him.  
  
"I want him in by eight!" she said, ignoring her son's protests. "And I don't want you taking him anywhere that wizards can be found." She twisted her head about to give her son a significant look. "We don't need anymore of that." Without another word, Pansy walked out the door, slamming it in her wake.  
  
"Should I be surprised or disappointed that she didn't hit me again?" Ron asked with a sigh. Hel nervously tittered.  
  
***  
  
Well, was it that bad? 


End file.
